


Dying doesn't seem so scary anymore

by candied_lemons



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tags May Change, no beta we die like schlatt in wii sports, sorry but this fandom needs another sad fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candied_lemons/pseuds/candied_lemons
Summary: "Your freckles are like stars." George looked to Dream, his hair falling to one side of his forehead. Dream giggled and brushed the hair away, bringing his hand down to the side of his face and leaving it there. "And your smile is like the sun," George finishes."Then you're like Earth, always revolving around me. The best I can do is give you my warmth. But one day I'll burn out, and you'll freeze over. Are you willing to sacrifice that for me?"---Or, When George volunteers at a teen counseling group for his college applications, he doesn't expect his future to slowly begin revolving around the guy he sits next to, falling helplessly in love with someone he shouldn't have
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Wilbur Soot, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. The Everlasting Reminder

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing on here so bare with me as i figure everything out. i'll be adding tags as the story progresses and i am sorry for any future tears you may shed. the chapters get better as we go, and you're support is appreciated!
> 
> this fic is based loosely of off a fault in our stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only took one glance for George to recognize who he was. The last person George expected to sit next to him in the clinic waiting room, was the guy who coughed up blood last month in the middle of Wilburs family’s coffee shop he worked at.
> 
> \---  
> or, George gets reconnected with someone he wanted to forget

George got out of his car with a huff, the door slamming casually behind him. The warm wind of autumn pushed him toward the clinic door. He could already feel the impending headache coming on. He always hated the atmosphere of hospitals, and this place was no different. A building full of teenagers who sucked at killing themselves. 

It wasn't that George had no sympathy, it was quite the opposite. He wanted to study to become a counselor after college, so he understood better than anyone how serious these issues were. It's just that George had much better places to be than a stuffy clinic for teens, digging up old memories from his past. 

Like watching Wilbur and Karl at theatre rehearsal while Sapnap performed a horrible rendition of megalovania on his violin. God help Sapnap because just thinking about it made George want to rip his head off. 

George had great friends, and he knew this, but their constant bickering from earlier today put him off. They talked for hours apon hours about music and games, only stopping when George nearly fell off his seat from boredom. Usually, he enjoys their idle chatter that he zones in and out of, adding little comments, but today was a stressful day. It was his first day volunteering at a place that unapologetically reminded him of every bad memory. 

Maybe it was the crappy coffee he had this morning or the snappy comments from Wilbur about his love life, but George wasn’t ready for whatever was to come next. 

Eyeing the clinic up and down, George walked through the doors. He was met with a blast of cool air and a gloomy stench of white sterile medical rooms flooded his nose, replacing the smell of the crisp autumn air outside. He wanted to turn around immediately but forced himself forward, reminding himself of the benefits that outweighed the burdens. 

George couldn’t help but think of Karl as he walked in. It was Karl’s idea to volunteer and when Sapnap said no he turned to George, who reluctantly accepted after Karl’s mention of college applications. Now Karl had bailed on him an hour before, saying something about feeling nauseous, but George heard Sapnap’s stupid giggle in the background. They were tooth-rottingly cute usually, but now all George wanted to do was kill them. He cursed out Karl and Sapnap loudly in his mind. 

_Think of the college applications, think of the college application_ , he repeatedly thought. 

He stepped towards the front desk, secretly thanking the receptionist for having such a potent floral perfume. If he worked at a place like this he would definitely switch to his father’s cologne that he clearly wore to impress the secretary at his office. 

George wasn’t mad his father was thinking of other women, as his mother had been gone for years. In fact, George was thankful for his father’s recovery, though it took considerably longer than anyone anticipated. 

He recalls the days where he would come home to his father passed out on the couch surrounded by used tissues and blankets. The smell was horrid. It was the smell of body odor and hospital. The hospital smell plagued their home for months, a constant reminder of his mother always looming over his head. He hated that sometimes that same hospital smell was the one thing that could calm him down. 

George would clean the living room for his father, and wash the sheets to try and get rid of the persistent hospital smell. The day he finally got rid of the smell from the house he was surprisingly sad. He ignored the feeling. 

After he was done cleaning, his father would ask for, what he would call, ‘comfort cuddles.’ George still teased him relentlessly for that to this day, but he always obliged. 

“Hello darling, how may I help you?” asked the receptionist who he almost walked past in deep thought. 

He finally took in his surroundings. Sun shone into the space, getting warped by the imperfect glass with ridges and divots, like a shower door. It looked brighter and highlighted the small crystals throughout the room. The walls were light pink with sweeping vines, making the whole place much more welcoming. It felt like a safe place. That is, if it didn’t have the same sickly smell as every damn hospital. 

George turned his attention to the receptionist, clearing his throat. “George Davidson. I’m here for the group counseling session. I’m volunteering with Karl Jacobs.” George added as an afterthought, ”He couldn’t make it today.” 

_Karl is seriously dead tomorrow_ , George thought. Secretly, he knew he’ll forgive him when he gives him the puppy-dog eyes. 

“Mhm, I see you on the list dear. Welcome and thank you, we don’t usually get such young volunteers. Please fill out this form for us real quick. Basic information, you know the drill.” She urged the papers into his hand and pointed to a seating area. “The session is in about ten minutes, make yourself comfortable.”

George took a seat on the linen chair, filling out the form with care. He got used to the medical smell a little too quickly for his liking, nearly smelling like home. He hadn’t been in a hospital since his mom died, and he didn’t plan on spending his time in one anytime soon. This was the closest thing to a hospital he would go into, and even then he wasn’t all that willing. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t realize the sound of the chimes as the clinic door opened, inviting fresh air into the stuffy room. He didn’t realize the nervous shuffling of feet walking towards the front desk, or when those feet started shuffling towards him. He only noticed the tall, blonde boy when he sat down in the chair next to him. 

It only took one glance for George to recognize who he was. The last person George expected to sit next to him in the clinic waiting room, was the guy who coughed up blood last month in the middle of Wilburs family’s coffee shop he worked at.

A small noise of surprise left George’s mouth as he quickly scrambled to get up. He wasn’t sure why he was so affected by the boy's presence. His vision blurred slightly as he walked swiftly out of the waiting room. As he rushed to the nearest bathroom he could practically feel the confusion of the taller boy and receptionist radiating off of them. 

George didn’t even know his name. However, he did know that he didn’t want to have that guy as a reminder. Today was already so much. He was feeling overwhelmed and sick to his stomach. 

The last time someone had coughed up as much blood as the other boy had that day, was his mother, who was later diagnosed with lung cancer. He couldn’t sleep that night, or the night after. When he finally managed to sleep, he woke up in a cold sweat and cried. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. 

He started to visit his mother in the hospital after her diagnosis. Every day he felt sicker and sicker until the day he stopped going. She had died the day before they agreed to let her come home for a week. The hospital was starting to feel like home to him. 

After her death, he would sleep with her clothes and blankets in bed with him. They smelled of the hospital, just as she did. It was comforting, but now the smell in the clinic made all those horrible memories come back. He couldn’t face them, not today. 

Now that reminder of her and that day came back at full force, it was as if a massive wave crashed into him and knocked the wind out of him. He was drowning. _Deep breaths, clear head_ , George thought. He splashed his face and shivered at the cold water. He looked in the mirror at the distorted blob of a face. It was then that he realized he was crying, soft sobs leaving his mouth.

He prayed the guy in the waiting room wasn't in his group. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this while eating mac and cheese


	2. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eyes met for a second, and the blonde turned his body slightly towards George. At first, he was scared the boy recognized him. But a new realization popped into his mind, an even more dangerous one. It occurred to George that he had just caught the taller boy staring. Not just staring, he was staring. 
> 
> A speck of pink and red quickly spread on the other boy’s cheekbones. He looked away so quickly, that George thought he imagined it. But when the boy looked back over and opened his mouth, George was sure he hadn’t. 
> 
> or, George gets to know the guy from earlier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the chapter i actually really like this one. i listened to angel by finneas a lot during this you can definitely tell

He was in his group. 

That was just George’s luck. 

But his luck was about to get much worse. 

———

After George’s meltdown in the bathroom, he returned his forms and got the room number for his group from the receptionist. She gave him a concerned look, causing him to step back into the bathroom before making the inevitable walk to the room. 

He studied his reflection in the mirror. Grimacing at the red, puffy eyes that stared back. He honestly didn’t think he cried that much, but his eyes betrayed him. With one more splash of water to the face, he left.

The walk to his group's room was like the calm after a storm. George desperately wanted to go home. He racked his brain for methods to calm himself, recalling the countless visits to his childhood therapist. 

The visits helped of course, but he would never admit it. Not even to Wilbur. 

The sun reflected on the pale walls of the hallway, dancing in circles. He squinted, the light blinding him. The bathroom was dark, safe like a child hiding their head under the blankets during the night. 

Walking into the room, he was hit with another whiff of hospital scent. It took everything in him to hold back the tears pricking at his eyes. 

“Hello, and there’s our last person,” an overly enthusiastic voice came from a woman sitting in a circle, surrounded by teens, seeming out of place. Everyone else appeared just as nervous as George, making him more at ease.

The light from the window shone on him, illuminating his face. He didn’t shield his eyes, it was warm, comforting. 

George gave a small nod and a timid “Hi” to the group. 

The woman, who he assumed was the counselor, looked to be middle-aged, with long black hair that gently swayed from the fan in the far corner, slowly rotating on its axis. Even in autumn, Florida was hot and humid every day. 

He thought back to the day his father told him about their planned move to Florida. 

His father moved them a year after George’s mother’s death, claiming he wanted a new atmosphere and job. George knew it was because his father couldn’t handle the pain of being alone in their house anymore. 

Their house was a constant reminder of what was supposed to be. All of his mother’s charm was put into the house, the flour she would spill while baking was engraved in the cracks in the floor. Her smell wafted through the house, blueberry muffins, and clean laundry. 

George’s father, Henry, had bought the house with George’s mother, Alice, after getting married fresh out of college. They were high school sweethearts, everyone loved them. Their parents were encouraging of everything and still kept in touch, even after their move across the sea. 

In fact, George’s grandmother was the first person he came out to, and she was more than accepting. She helped him through his first crush, and, very awkwardly, gave him his much-needed sex-ed talk after his father had passed him off to her, not knowing what to do. 

George was devastated when his father broke the news of his plans to move. He ran to his room, slamming the door. His tears obstructing his view, he stumbled his way to his closet. Locking himself in, he reached for his box of keepsakes from his mother. An old stuffed lamb, her perfume, a rusted necklace that George chewed on as a baby, and an old sweater. He made sure those keepsakes were in his moving box. They were the only things of hers that didn’t smell of her hospital room. 

Just moving from his old house made him overwhelmed, but his father wanted to move them across the Atlantic Ocean. 

He grew up in that house and it harbored all the good memories of his mother. Her laughter once filled every corner, from the floor to the ceiling of the grand entrance. Her smile was bright, reaching her eyes to look like crescent moons. His good memories were gradually replaced by memories of his mother in her hospital bed. She looked so exhausted. She smiled just as brightly, but it never reached her eyes. The worst part was seeing her slowly get weaker, and his father’s bank account draining. 

Her small hospital room, white from wall to wall, matched how she looked. Pale, lifeless, and quiet. Her once-booming laugh had become a soft chuckle. The windows did nothing to comfort them. The sun that cast on her just brought out all her blemishes and sickly features. His father, of course, would nevertheless call her beautiful. And he wasn’t lying, she still was. 

His mother died when he was twelve. They moved a year after, the heartbreak too much to bare. 

It was a light cough that drew him back from his thoughts. He looked over, suddenly realizing just how many people there were. He felt the need to curl into himself, but he begrudgingly looked for his seat. Just to his luck, there was only one seat left. Right next to the blonde boy from before. 

Looking at him now in full lighting, without a thudding in his chest and swirling memories coming back to haunt him, George noticed how good-looking he was. A new thudding entered his chest, this one different from the usual. A sliver of light from the window illuminated his hair, making it a lighter blonde, like an angel. He looked otherworldly, not human. 

George would think of him as an angel, that is until he remembered just who he really was. Angels didn’t cough up cups of blood after ordering a much too sweet latte or cause people to go into a spiral, reminding them of their dead mothers. 

Angels were supposed to be gentle and kind. Even if the blonde looked it, George doubted he was anything close to an angel. More like his personal demon. But it didn’t stop George from staring. 

George must’ve been staring too long because suddenly a pair of green eyes gazed back. How could someone’s eyes be so beautiful even while looking like piss? George immediately looked down, stifling an embarrassed noise. He hoped he didn’t still look like shit from his earlier breakdown. 

“Take a seat and we’ll get to introductions,” the same woman beamed brightly, clapping her hands together. This was going to be a long meeting. 

George reluctantly took a seat to the left of the mystery man, trying to look anywhere but him. He stared at the floor, a rustic chestnut wood gleaming in the sun. He scanned the people around him, well, he scanned their shoes, not wanting to make eye contact. The boy next to him may look like an angel but his taste in shoes was shitty. 

It took all his effort to not look to his right as he felt the others’ eyes on him. 

He suddenly remembered how weird he must have come off as to him. George would’ve been weirded out if the roles were reversed. He would be concerned if a handsome - no, a very normal-looking teenager that he had sat next to in a random clinic left abruptly, looking like he saw death itself. He hoped he didn’t remember him from the coffee shop at least. 

The day of the coffee incident was relatively boring and then got interesting much too fast. There was a lull in customers, it normally was like this in the afternoon. Techno wasn’t at the shop that day and left George in charge, saying Wilbur would scare customers with his obnoxious singing. George liked when Wilbur sang but that was beside the point. 

The coffee shop was owned by Phil. He was kind to everyone and was known for the countless kids he took care of. He adopted Techno and Wilbur when they were just kids and was now fostering two younger boys, Tommy and Tubbo. They were rambunctious kids, Tommy was always screaming and Tubbo was just along for the ride. Not a day went by without Tommy telling him he was a “bitch.” Tommy didn’t like having to move to America from Britain, claiming the women just weren’t the same here. Most of George’s headaches came from Tommy, who didn’t seem to realize that he had a room above the shop he could be in, rather than annoying George while working. 

One day, the bells chimed, signifying the arrival of a customer. George looked up to see a tall scruffy man and what looked to be his son. George’s first thought was, _shit he’s hot_. George busied his hands, wiping down the counters and machines. Tommy snickered, nothing got past that kid. 

George shot him a glance, telling him to shut up. Tommy, of course, couldn’t do that. “Hey Gogmister, that guy is looking at you,” Tommy mocked. George ignored him, like usual, and continued wiping down the already clean espresso machine. He caught his reflection in it, seeing the two shadows behind him. 

He turned around, facing the customers. “How can I help you,” he said in his usual cheerful tone and polite smile. He purposefully looked towards the older man. Only when he spared a glance at the blonde boy did he stop breathing. 

George was good at keeping his emotions in check, but when the blonde gave him a small smile he thought his heart would combust. He dragged his eyes back down to his pen and paper, grabbing it. He hadn’t used his pen and paper in months, not needing it anymore to memorize the orders, but he needed somewhere to look while they ordered. 

“Dark roast,” the older man sighed out. George promptly wrote it down. 

The blonde looked out to the cars, watching them pass by, “I’ll have a latte please.” George wrote that down as well and before he could ask, the blonde answered his thoughts, “for here.” George spared him a glance, this time instead of not being able to breathe, he felt he couldn’t walk. 

George muttered an “ok” and nodded, standing still. He could practically hear Tommy making fun of him, but Tommy knew if he did Phil would just up George’s paycheck, taking directly from Tommy’s allowance. 

The two men walked to the far corner of the shop, taking a seat. George swiftly began working on the older man's order first, and then the latte. George didn’t like this type of coffee, preferring what the older man had ordered. 

Halfway through making a heart with the milk foam in the blonde’s latte, he heard a fit of coughs from the back corner. He looked up to see the boy being ushered out by his father, who quickly gave George a twenty-dollar bill. Before they left, George could see blood pooling in the boy’s hands. He watched them leave, dread filling his chest. Tommy sat at the bar, wide-eyed. The dread looming over his head, threatening to spill out. George left Tommy and went to the back room. Tommy just sat, the quietest he’d ever been in his life. If George cried after that, that was for him, and only him, to know. 

The sound of papers shuffling woke him from his thoughts.

George wasn’t sure what made his eyes dart to the boy next to him. Maybe it was his sudden flashback, or the building air pressure in the room, or the thought in the back of his head he so desperately tried to push away, but he looked anyway. 

Their eyes met for a second, and the blonde turned his body slightly towards George. At first, he was scared the boy recognized him. But a new realization popped into his mind, an even more dangerous one. It occurred to George that he had just caught the taller boy staring. Not just staring, he was _staring_. 

A speck of pink and red quickly spread on the other boy’s cheekbones. He looked away so quickly, that George thought he imagined it. But when the boy looked back over and opened his mouth, George was sure he hadn’t. 

“Okay, I see we’re all understandably shy. Don’t worry, I’ll get us started,” the woman interrupted whatever exchange was about to happen between the two boys. 

George wasn’t sure why he felt so disappointed. He wrote it off as displeasure for having to actually speak during this meeting.

In the split second that George had looked away, the other boy quickly turned his body back to the woman, as if he never moved. 

The woman cleared her throat, “My name is Lisa, I’ll be your counselor. Feel free to ask me anything. We’re all here to talk openly with each other.” George wondered just how open a group of strangers could be with each other, teenagers nonetheless. She continued, “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves. Just your name and a little bit about why you’re here is good.” 

The room fell silent, only the buzzing of the fan could be heard. As if the sun could feel the sudden tension, the room dimmed. This is exactly what George didn’t want. He hated public speaking and doing it in front of a bunch of depressed teenagers sounded even worse. 

She looked around the room for someone to start. Her gaze, unfortunately, landed on George, who stayed quiet until he saw her eyes silently pleading, willing him to talk. He volunteered for this, after all, he may as well help the poor woman.

He cleared his throat, which was still raw from his breakdown. He was feeling much more self-conscious now than before and his body was stiff. “Hi. Um, I’m George. I’m here as a volunteer,” he said softly. He was worried he said it too softly when no one responded. George could feel the rising blush spreading from his chest with everyone’s eyes on him. 

George wanted to crawl into a hole. Why was everyone still staring at him? He shared what was expected, surely that was enough. 

As if an angel could hear his discomfort, someone began talking after him. “My name’s Dream,” someone to George’s right answered. Though, it sounded more directed at George than to the group. Sure enough, it was the heavenly boy who couldn’t seem to leave his thoughts that afternoon. 

He supposed he should be thankful for the boy saving him from the awkward stares, but hearing the name of the guy he desperately wanted to forget made him feel worse. It didn’t help that his voice was heavenly too. Heavy and light all at the same time. He wondered how it would sound saying his name. 

“I’m here because of,” he paused for a long second. George wondered why Lisa would make them share such personal information on the first day. “I tried to kill myself,” it was nearly a whisper. The room fell quiet again. George wasn’t surprised, he assumed that was the reason most of the people were here. He knew the statistics for teen suicide, it wasn’t like it was one in seven and a half trillion. 

George wanted to say something reassuring but his mind went blank, supposing that was Lisa’s job. Lisa however, looked like someone shot a dog in front of her. She clearly didn’t think this through. “I’m sorry. Thank you for sharing dear, I’m glad you’re still here. It’s good to talk about these things.” George thought it was a rather generic response but effective, who was he to judge a professional. 

Dream just nodded and looked to the right, prodding the person next to him to share. Just when George didn’t think he could get any prettier, he saw his side profile. He cursed himself for looking at someone like that when they had shared something so personal. He couldn’t help it. Even if Dream looked so vulnerable, with his lips in a slight frown, he still looked unearthly. 

He glanced at George. The sun previously lighting his hair upcast light on his face, revealing his numerous freckles. He wondered what it would be like to count them, secretly hoping time would freeze then and there, so he could stare at the boy. See how his hair perfectly fell on his forehead, how his freckles looked like constellations, and how his eyes perfectly complimented his green hoodie. George thought he forgot how to breathe right that second. 

As soon as he thought Dream couldn’t be more breathtaking, he smiled softly. _Great_ , George thought, _even his smile is straight from heaven_. That was the thing to top it all off. George was truly falling for someone he wasn’t supposed to. 

George prided himself on knowing his feelings. He had a great therapist that helped him through so much, and he discovered a lot about himself through those appointments. It’s the reason he wanted to be a counselor. To help kids like him. And the feeling George could tell was developing in him, was infatuation. 

Crushes didn’t come easy to George. He didn’t simply fall in and out of them. When he fell, he fell _hard_. Whoever he would crush on would plague his everyday thoughts. He would see a couple in the store, and start daydreaming of them. He only had a few crushes in the past, all lasting far too long. 

One from elementary school, long forgotten. Though, he could still remember the way he would say his name, with an emphasis on the last e. He didn’t stop liking him until one day in fifth grade when he found him kissing a girl behind the bleachers. They say you never get over your first love, but George got over him pretty quickly. Then one from middle school directly before his move. The boy had given him a going away gift, his first kiss. George raved about it to his diary later. 

His most recent crush was Wilbur, who he got over quickly when he started dating Niki after being cast as her love interest in the musical. George wasn’t as heartbroken over it as he thought he would be. Sure, Wilbur was the most attractive person in his grade, and his first friend after his move, but he was happy he found Niki. Niki was a nice girl. Sweet, pretty, and most importantly, a huge theatre geek. She was perfect for Wilbur. It had been a year since his last crush and he didn’t miss how it damaged his heart. How could one person, who he’d never spoken to, be so charming with just a look. It amazed him. 

Without noticing, George returned Dream’s small smile. A blooming in his heart awakened. He hoped the room wasn’t quiet enough to hear his quickening heart rate. 

The boy to Dream’s right took his turn at introductions. “Hi, I’m Ranboo,” he offered. Ranboo was a lengthy boy, incredibly tall even while sitting. He wore a half black, half white shirt, and chains hanging from his jeans. “I’ve always had memory issues. I get a lot of triggers for memories I don’t remember. Writing notes down helps.” George noticed the notepad on his lap. It looked like he already scribbled a few sentences in. 

The rest of the meeting was more introductions, mostly consisting of the same thing. Depressed teenagers with the misfortune of being forced to talk about their feelings. 

A shorter boy named Quackity by far had the most memorable story. He said he was here on a referral from what he called, ‘authority figures with no askers.’ He was an interesting character. His beanie looked as if it were glued on his head and he refused to take it off. He wore a smug smile but seemed to be genuinely kind, adding supportive comments when people shared their problems. 

After everyone finished introductions, Lisa asked more ice breakers. Questions like favorite color, pet peeves, and what colleges they would attend, keeping the conversation light. When Dream spoke brightly of his cat Patches, Quackity said with a snicker, “Any askers?” George couldn’t help but grin. He and Quackity seemed to get along well and Dream was a good sport, laughing at Quackitys joke too. George giggled even harder when Dream joined in. All three boys made light banter with each other for the rest of the meeting. 

———

When it was finally time to end their session, George let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over and he could go to Wilbur’s house to vent over his newfound emotions and anxiety from earlier. As George leaned down to pick up his jacket from the floor, he looked over. He was searching for someone. He didn’t want to admit it, but he thought of how Dream may look without the sun highlighting him. Maybe he just imagined his attractiveness and his blossoming crush would fall in on itself. 

He was still hot. When George caught Dream in his eye line, he was leaning against the wall looking at his phone. Dream didn’t look up to George. They didn’t have another silent unfinished, yet never started, conversation, like earlier. Instead, George just looked and admired. The golden light that only shone at sunset covered the room. Even without it touching Dream’s face, he still managed to look lovely. Truly a fallen angel. 

George left, sending a quick text to Wilbur telling him to get ready. George left the room, waving goodbye to Lisa and missing the way Dream glanced up from his phone to watch him leave. Quackity followed George out of the room, jogging lightly to meet him in the hallway. 

“Hey, George right? Gogy perhaps,” Quackity said coming to a slow walk next to George. 

George cringed, quickening his pace. “Just George is fine. Hello Quackity.” George’s British accent made Quackity’s name sound even sillier. 

“You’re a volunteer right,” Quackity asked, meeting Georges’s pace. Without waiting for an answer, he kept talking. “Why would you do that to yourself man.”

“Do you have a reason to be talking to me or are you just here to annoy me?” George admittedly liked talking to Quackity but he had a place to be. 

“Just thought I’d say hi to my new favorite British boy.”

George was sure Quackity didn’t know any other British boys but he couldn’t care less. He slowed his pace down to the original speed, Quackity following. 

“Look, I know you’re friends with Karl and he promised me he’d be here as a volunteer. I just wanted to know where he was,” Quackity admitted. He looked up at George with big eyes. “He gave me the motivation to come today but he never showed up.” 

“He called me earlier. Said he was feeling sick, sorry.” 

Quackity gave a disappointed shrug. “I’ll see you next time Gogy.” They split in the parking lot. Quackity walked towards his grey corolla. George didn’t miss the betrayed look Quackity wore on his face before turning around. Karl never told George about Quackity, maybe there was more of a reason he skipped the meeting than just Sapnap. 

George walked to his own car, the anxiety falling off his body. Opening the door and slipping in the driver's seat, he let himself melt into the warm leather. He let out a shaky sigh, all the tension leaving his shoulders. His back slid down until he was slouched like a crescent moon. He stayed like that for a minute, just breathing in and out slowly. It was the first minute of free time he had today. 

Between being the stage manager for theatre, and dealing with Sapnaps shenanigans at school, he was unbelievably tired. All he needed was a relaxing day with Wilbur, playing video games, and listening to his new songs. Wilbur loved songwriting and forced George to listen to all of them. Listening to the songs was his guilty pleasure. They never failed to make George loosen up, letting go of all the stress in his body. They would be in Wilburs room when Wilbur would get a specific look on his face. Grabbing his guitar, he would move George’s head onto his legs and strum a soft melody. They would sit like that for hours, just relaxing in each other’s presence. Who could blame George for having caught feelings so fast? Despite the painfully intimate actions between them, they remained close friends, and George learned to prefer it that way. 

When George lifted himself back up he saw Dream walking out of the clinic. Dream noticed him and waved. George returned the gesture. He waited to see if Dream would come to talk to him, hoping he would. George rolled down his window, and Dream crossed over to the driver’s side, taking the bait. 

The sun was starting to set now, lighting the parking lot in a soft, ethereal glow. Dreams pace quickened as he walked towards his open window. 

Dream leaned in, resting his arm on the top of the car right above the window. “Hey, George.” George was right, he loved the way Dream said his name. He could bask in the sound of the other’s voice all day. 

“Hi,” George said slowly, unsure of what would come from this. “Do you uh, need a ride?” George internally cringed. _Why the fuck would you ask that now he’ll think you’re a creep,_ he thought.

“No, no, I’m good. Just thought I’d say hi.” Dream smiled brightly, flashing his teeth. “My ride is here, see you next week, right?.” George nodded. Dream backed away from the car, removing his hand and waving goodbye. He walked towards a black SUV that had just pulled up. George waved at Dream’s back as he walked away. 

———

Wilbur opened the door to a practically glowing George. “What’s got you all happy?” George stepped past him, taking his shoes off at the door. Instead of answering Wilbur, he made his way to the kitchen, smelling the cookies Tommy and Tubbo were making. 

“Smells good guys.” George smiled at Tubbo, Wilbur’s second-youngest brother. Tommy pounced on him, almost knocking him over. “Easy big man, what’s up.”

“Dude you can’t just ignore me,” Wilbur said from behind, walking to where George was standing now. “Come on let’s go down.” 

“No, stay with us, George. Wilbur’s been angsty all day, _please_ ,” Tommy groaned. George removed himself from Tommy’s strong embrace, putting his arms around Tubbo instead. Tommy gave in and hugged Tubbo, giggling. Wilbur rolled his eyes at Tommy, grabbing George’s elbow in one hand and a mug of tea in his other. George took his tea from the counter as well, letting himself be dragged towards the living room. 

Phil was on the couch, reading the newspaper with his glasses on the tip of his nose. The room was lit with candles and a lamp. It was cozy. Soft piano music played in the background, a sign that Techno was home. Phil looked up from his spot on the couch, greeting George warmly. “Hello George, make yourself at home. There’s food in the kitchen if you can get past Tommy and Tubbo. I hope they don’t make a mess with the flour like last time.” George didn’t have the heart to tell him that flour already littered the kitchen floor when he walked in. 

“You know Tommy dad, don’t get your hopes up,” Wilbur laughed out. He pulled George towards his room, giving a quick hello to Techno, who grunted and resumed playing. 

Wilburs room was dark and had a certain homey scent, exactly how you would think an indie art kid’s room would smell. He had posters from wall to wall, from _Hamilton_ to _Phantom of the Opera_. His home home sign hung on the wall above his bed. LED lights covered the area where the ceiling met the wall, lit red. 

“Tell me what’s up,” Wilbur said softly when they both sat on his bed. 

“It’s just been a weird day that’s it. The clinic was… well you know.”

“Yeah, I get it, man. You know you can talk to me right.”

“Of course.” Wilbur put his hands on George’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. George sighed into Wilbur’s neck and Wilbur rocked back and forth. 

He groaned into George’s hair, “Tommy’s been insufferable today. It’s like he’s on a personal mission to piss me off as best he can.”

“I met a hot guy,” George blurted out. Wilbur pulled away from the hug, grabbing the sides of George’s arms and shaking him. 

“You _what_. Come on you have to tell me,” he practically yelled. 

“Jeez chill. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.” This was the part of the night George had been most anxious for. He didn’t know how Wilbur would react to his crush. He knew Wilbur was supportive of course, but he never talked about crushes with his friends before. Still, he was excited to gossip with his best friend. “Do you remember that guy from a long while ago? The one who coughed up the blood in the shop.”

“Mhm, what does he have to do with this. Don’t tell me, _you can’t be serious_.” Wilbur rubbed his eyes like an annoyed mother. “Look it’s great for you to have hot guys to ogle but, this guy? You had a breakdown last time you saw him.”

The night after the coffee shop guy incident George came to Wilbur’s house at two in the morning, tears running down his face. Wilbur took him across the street and they sat under the streetlamp, casting a yellow glow on them. George looked sickly, snot running down his nose and throat raw. It took an hour of coaxing for him to calm down. 

“I know. When I saw him today I was a little shocked too.” George conveniently left out the fact that he broke down again today, but Wilbur didn’t need to know. It was better left unsaid. “But he’s seriously gorgeous. You’d like him too.” 

“Maybe, but still. I just want you to be happy, seriously. I mean it,” Wilbur said, wrapping George into a hug again. “Although, If you got a picture of him, I wouldn’t mind seeing it. For research purposes of course.” 

George hit Wilbur’s back and scoffed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Now sing me a song.” 

“Anything for you, your majesty,” Wilbur giggled, grabbing his guitar from its stand. Wilbur sat back on the bed. George laid his head on Wilbur’s thigh, as he started strumming a soothing rhythm. 

George fell asleep, drifting into peaceful oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start posting some shorter one chapter fics in between updates, I posted a song fic if you want to check it out


	3. Sleepy Bois Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream turned his head, eyes lighting up in recognition. His mouth parted slightly as he looked George dead in the eyes. His face broke into a smile, starting small, and getting bigger as he chuckled, no, wheezed. “George!” 
> 
> \---  
> or, Tommy's math tutor is not who George thought he would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters I've written so far. I love all the family dynamics in this and as you can tell Tommy is one of my favorite characters to write. 
> 
> tw// arguing and blood

Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, waking George from his deep sleep. Warmth bubbled up in his chest as he felt Wilbur wrapped around his right arm. He gently untangled himself from Wilbur’s arms and pulled the blanket back up to the other’s chin before sitting up. 

The room around him was disheveled in a mess of clothes and sheet music that Wilbur had already memorized. While debating whether to wake him up, he remembered that any second Tommy would be barging into the room, just like Wilbur always complained about. It would be best to let him sleep for now. 

George stood up, lazily stretching his limbs and letting out a soft sigh. Searching through Wilbur’s drawers, he found a hoodie and sweats with Phil’s coffee shop on it, Sleepy Bois Inc. Slipping the clothes on, he looked in the mirror. The hoodie was blue, with the cafe symbol in the middle, two orcas facing each other with a clock in the middle. George preferred more brand-name clothes but this would do. His clothes from the day before lay on the floor, smelling of teenage stink. George’s brow furrowed at his messy brown hair, flat on one side and spiked up on the other. His eyes were hooded and eye bags visible after the long night. 

Just like George had guessed, Tommy’s thudding footsteps raced down the stairs, halting at Wilbur's door. There was no knock, just an abrupt noise of him opening the door. Tommy nodded at George, making his way to the bed. A mischievous smile grew on the boy's face as he looked down at his older brother. 

Tommy opened his mouth and assaulted Wilbur’s ears, yelling, “Wakey wakey Wilby!” He threw his head back in a fit of laughs, his voice squeaking slightly. 

Wilbur jumped, opening his eyes and searching for whoever was responsible for his rude awakening. His eyes locked on the younger blonde standing right next to his bed. He threw himself towards Tommy, missing a little to the left because of his still sleepy state. To save himself at the last minute from crashing on the floor, Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shirt. “What the fuck Tommy.” Wilbur peered up at Tommy. If looks could kill, well, Tommy would’ve been dead years ago. 

“Sorry, sorry, you’re just so fun to mess with,” Tommy apologized with no real remorse, still giggling. 

“Fuck off.” Wilbur sat up, straightening his back and shrugging up his shoulders. He lifted his arms above his head, stretching them to the ceiling, only stopping when he heard his bones crack. Suddenly Wilbur remembered what Tommy said, “Did you just fucking call me Wilby?”

Tommy stopped laughing. “Wh-what I did not call you Wilby, dickhead,” Tommy squeaked out. He hid his face in his hands. “Dickhead, dickhead,” Tommy shouted. 

“Are you embarrassed cause you just called me Wilby,” Wilbur teased. He wore a self-satisfied grin on his face. “Aw, Tommy, you can call me Wilby. You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said genuinely, taking Tommy’s hands away from his face and giving him a tight hug that Tommy tried to squirm out of. He made a few more noises of protest before giving in. When Wilbur’s grip loosened, Tommy pushed away and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

“What time is it George?” Wilbur said through a yawn, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. 

“Almost eleven.”

Wilbur groaned. “I wanted to sleep until at least noon. Fucking Tommy.”

“Come on, he’s sweet. It’s nice that he likes you so much.” George gave Wilbur a look. George was a little jealous of Wilbur’s family. No matter how annoying Tommy may be, they all still loved each other. 

“I wish he’d annoy Techno instead,” Wilbur huffed. He got off the bed and walked towards his dresser, changing into a more form-fitting shirt. “I mean, all he’s done since we took him in is antagonize me.” Wilbur looked in the mirror, locking eyes with George behind him. 

George’s expression fell slightly. “I think it means he likes you.” George put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, smiling. “Breakfast time.” Wilbur sighed and nodded his head. 

—-

Soft classical music filled the living room as they walked in from Wilbur’s room. Phil was reading his newspaper in his usual spot, quietly flipping the pages and eyeing the crossword. Techno was sitting next to him, absentmindedly humming the soft melody and tapping his foot. 

Plates clattering and idle chatter could be heard over the soft music, coming from Tommy and Tubbo in the dining room. George could smell the french toast from the oven. It was his favorite and Phil knew that. When Phil added breakfast items to the cafe, George had taken home all the leftover french toast. Phil started making extra for George when he knew he’d be working the early shift. 

“Breakfast will be ready soon boys,” Phil said looking up from his newspaper, now fully turned to the crossword page. “Will you two help Tommy and Tubbo? I’m sure they’ve already gotten off track.”

Wilbur nodded, moving towards the dining room with George following. The classical music slowly faded from their ears, replaced with Tommy yapping on about unimportant things. George had heard bits and pieces from the living room, something about a new girl he met and his math tutor. Now they were onto a new discussion. 

Tommy’s voice quickly toned in. “-a new friend. I thought we were best friends, Tubbo! Tubbster, Tubbling, old buddy old pal.” Tommy sounded light-hearted but George could pick up the upset undertones in his voice. 

“We are best friends, Tommy, but I’m allowed to have other friends. You’ll love Ranboo, don’t even worry about it,” Tubbo replied. 

“Where did you even meet him.”

“School. Be quiet and set the table please.”

Tommy huffed and did as he was told. Wilbur snorted at his outburst and helped Tommy set the table. The timer in the kitchen dinged, signifying the french toast was done. Tubbo motioned for George to follow him into the kitchen. 

They took the french toast out of the oven and filled mugs with coffee. Tubbo made sure to give Tommy the mug with ‘I woke up like this’ written across it, snickering to George as he held it up. Taking the food and coffee to the dining room, they heard Tommy’s bickering again, but this time he sounded more genuinely upset. 

“Can you just, I don’t know, be nice to me for one second. I’m sorry for annoying you,” Tommy’s pleading could be heard as the two boys walked in. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” Wilbur looked up to see George and Tubbo and yelled to Phil and Techno, “Breakfast is ready!” 

Wilbur pulled a chair from the corner for George, placing it beside his. George knew that spot was supposed to be for Tommy but he didn’t want to bring attention to it. As if Phil could sense the atmosphere as he walked in, he rubbed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he passed to his seat. They all sat with Tubbo and Tommy on one side, Wilbur and George on the other, with Phil and Techno on the ends. 

“Dig in,” Phil said, reaching for the french toast and taking a piece. “Make sure to eat your fruits,” he added, giving a pointed look to the younger boys. 

They ate in silence, Phil sometimes asking a question about either school or extracurriculars. They all gave short answers and Phil gave up, opting to speak to Techno about his music instead. George took the time to look around the room, tuning out the sound of the classical music from the living room and Techno’s rambles about philosophy and piano. 

Pictures of the family adorned the walls. So many happy smiles. George was even in a few of the pictures. He looked much younger in them, his head barely fit his scrawny boyish figure. As George was looking at the room around him, he noticed the lull in the conversation. Looking for the source of the pause, he saw Tommy tensing his body and Phil shaking his head. Just as quickly as it had quieted, the silence was filled with a loud crash of ceramic on wood. Wilbur lunged over the table towards Tommy, grabbing him by the wrists. 

Before George had time to process what happened, Phil screamed, “Enough boys! I’ve had to deal with your childish behavior all day, please for just the rest of today can you get along. Please.” Phil sounded tired and looked it even more. Wilbur straightened himself, loosening his grip from Tommy’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry dad. He’s just - he’s such a prick.”

That sent Phil over the edge. “He’s your brother, Wilbur! Learn to get along with him!”

Tommy’s soft sniffles could be heard from the other side of the table. “I’m sorry Phil, it’s my fault, really. I’ve been annoying him all week.”

Phil sighed. “It’s dad.”

“What?”

“Never - never mind. Let’s just get through one meal as a normal family.” Phil turned his attention to George. “I’m sorry about them. Thank you for making you put up with it.”

George shook his head. “You guys are practically family, don’t worry about it.” Phil mouthed a soft ‘thank you’ to George. Wilbur wouldn’t meet George’s eyes, staring down at his now shattered plate with much interest. The doorbell rang, drawing everyone’s attention to the door.

Techno was fast to get on his feet, looking for a way out of the situation. He rushed towards the door. The dining room stayed quiet. Wilbur got up to clean the floor from the broken plate he smashed earlier, taking the shards, and leaving down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

They could hear Techno talking to another man, and Wilbur shouted a ‘hey’ as he walked by. Two pairs of footsteps walked back towards the dining room, one closer and louder than the other. Techno was the first to walk in. 

“Your tutor’s here, Tommy.” Techno stepped aside to let the blonde boy into the room. “You can sit, we’re just finishing breakfast. Have you eaten?”

George had to stop himself from rubbing his eyes at the sheer disbelief. The tutor had the same messy hair and jade eyes as the boy from yesterday. No, he had the same smile too, smug and lifted on the left side more than the right. No, no, that _was_ the same boy. George was in utter disbelief. He felt panic start to rise out of his chest. He thought back to how his hair looked this morning. He never brushed it. 

The boy nodded his head, still looking at Techno. He seemed to notice the awkward tension in the room. Wilbur came up from behind, scooting past them to get to his seat. He clapped a hand on George’s shoulder and said, “Dream have you met George?” 

Dream turned his head, eyes lighting up in recognition. His mouth parted slightly as he looked George dead in the eyes. His face broke into a smile, starting small, and getting bigger as he chuckled, no, _wheezed_. “George!” 

George wanted to reverse time and wake up knowing what would happen later. He’d brush his hair, wash his face, and pick a better outfit. Dream looked far too nice for a Saturday morning. He wore a black sweater with a white-collar and blue jeans, cuffed. _Cuffed_. Still had shitty shoes though. 

Wilbur shot George a confused glance. “Do you know each other?” George kicked him under the table, the smug smile knocked off his face. _This is so embarrassing,_ he thought. 

“We met each other yesterday. At the, the uh, coffee shop,” Dream stammered blushing slightly. 

_Why did he change it,_ George thought. He guessed it wasn’t something he liked to share. But Wilbur was too smart. He turned his head to George, his eyes widening as if saying, _this guy?_ George nodded. 

“God damn,” Wilbur said, before slapping his hand over his mouth. Now George was really embarrassed. He’d have to explain who Dream actually was later. 

That was when Phil started laughing, having stayed quiet the whole time. Techno stifled a chuckle as well. Dream smiled shyly, something George hadn’t seen before. George put his head in his hand, trying to shove down the blush sparking in his cheeks as Wilbur shot him a wink. 

“This is deffo flirting,” Tubbo whispered, meaning to only be heard by Tommy, but everyone in the room heard it too. Tommy cackled louder than everyone. Even George found himself laughing, slowly raising his head from his hand, letting his chin rest on it. He looked up to Dream, who was still staring at him. He was laughing, but he looked confused, looking between Wilbur and George. 

“Take a seat Dream, Tommy will be ready soon.” Phil glanced at Tommy, who quickly got up and walked towards his room to get dressed. “Help yourself.” Dream sat in Tommy’s seat and took an apple from the center bowl. George watched as Dream took a bite, watched as his lips moved around the apple, and… _what is he thinking._

Wilbur chuckled beside him, poking him in the arm. George glared at him, rolling his eyes, and Wilbur stuck out his tongue. Dream seemed confused again and had a calculating look. “George, you don’t live here, right? I mean, I’ve never seen you here before,” Dream asked. 

“No, I just slept over last night.” Dream’s mouth formed an o shape. George wasn’t sure what that meant but he shrugged it off. Wilbur, however, was a little more self-aware, but before he could reassure Dream, his phone rang. 

“It’s Niki, sorry.” Wilbur left to the living room. Tubbo followed him, stating something about saying hi to Niki. Phil and Techno filtered out behind them, leaving the two boys alone.

It was much more uncomfortable than anything George had experienced before. He didn’t know what to say, and neither did Dream. They just stared at each other awkwardly, Dream eating his apple way too slowly. As if Dream was teasing him, he continued to stare, a smug smile settling on his face. George’s gaze didn’t falter. He wasn’t losing the contest, or whatever this was. George examined his emerald eyes, the way they perfectly fit his face and were a great contrast to his lips. _Don’t look at his lips idiot,_ George scowled. If George didn’t know any better, it seemed like Dream was studying him in a similar way. 

Wilbur was the one who broke their staring contest, walking into the room cluelessly. “Niki and Karl are coming over later,” he said to George. He looked over to Dream, who gave him a challenging look. “Tommy’s ready. You can stay after you’re done. Karl will love you.” 

Dream seemed surprised at his invitation but accepted. “Sure. I’ll just have to tell my dad, thanks.” Getting out of his seat, he gave Wilbur a polite smile and turned towards Tommy’s room. 

When Dream was out of earshot, Wilbur laughed. “Could you be a little less obvious when checking him out? Jeez, keep it in your pants.” George gawked at him, his eyes widening. “By the way, I don’t think you meant it to come off that way, but he definitely thinks we’re dating.” 

George was ready to explode with embarrassment. “WHAT,” he screamed. “Why would he think that? That doesn’t make sense.” But as George thought back to it, it did make sense. George said he stayed the night, and then Dream had a certain look on his face. How could he be so stupid? George shoved his head down in his arms which were now crossed on the table. Suddenly, George got a brilliant idea. “Just kiss Niki.” George looked over to Wilbur with new hope in his eyes. 

Wilbur laughed and shook his head. “This is a good thing, George. Keep him guessing a little. Come on, it’s only been a day.”

“That’s cruel.” George frowned at Wilbur, but he entertained the idea, what it would be like for Dream to fight over George. He shook the thoughts away. “I don’t like playing with people’s emotions.”

“Then I’m not kissing Niki.” 

“I’m telling Niki you hate her, idiot.” George smiled at the fake distraught look Wilbur pulled. 

“Come on, you look like shit. Gotta get ready for your new boyfriend.” Wilbur shoved him out the dining room and towards the bathroom while George protested lightly. 

—-

George discovered that he was much better at playing with people’s emotions than he thought, or rather he was better at following Wilbur’s lead. Dream was giving Wilbur a death stare as he walked into the living room to find George reading a book with Wilbur’s arm around his shoulder, scrolling through his phone with his other hand. Dream didn’t say anything, after all, it wasn’t like George and him were dating. If only Dream knew that the whole time, Wilbur was really texting Niki. 

George put on another one of Wilbur’s shirts, this time a black and white flannel, and his jeans from yesterday. After much arguing, he even agreed to let Wilbur do his hair. It had small waves throughout it and the ends were curled. George had to admit that he looked good. 

Tommy came out behind Dream, with Tubbo trailing him. Tommy took one look at Wilbur and George and sharply turned around, mumbling something about the two acting married again. Tubbo giggled, pulling Tommy back into the room. The two younger boys stepped towards the couch Wilbur and George were sitting on and shoved them apart. Tommy took a seat next to George, and Tubbo next to Wilbur. 

Dream took a seat in an armchair on the other side of George. “When are your friends coming over?” He directed the question at George, but Wilbur answered.

“Any minute,” he said, not looking up from his phone. Still reading his book, George didn’t notice the way Dream frowned at Wilbur. Surprisingly, Wilbur was being a bigger cockblock than Tommy. 

There was a knock from the front door and Wilbur jumped to his feet. Dream and George quickly followed. Wilbur opened the door to a very pretty blonde girl. “Niki!”

Wilbur pulled her into a long hug, his arms around her waist and her head against his chest, rocking back and forth. Now Dream looked really confused. When Niki turned her head up, she moved to kiss Wilbur. George knew Wilbur couldn’t refuse, and they broke their little prank. When Wilbur pulled away from Niki he caught Dream’s angry gaze. “What,” Wilbur asked innocently. 

Dream looked between all three of them. “Am I an idiot or did you just cheat on your boyfriend in front of him?” Wilbur and Niki burst out laughing, Niki leaning on Wilbur for support. George tried to hide the small giggle forming in his chest as Dream looked at him for clarity. 

“Wilbur, what did you do,” Niki asked, still giggling. 

“Nothing, just George things.”

“You guys are so annoying. Don’t worry, I thought those two were dating when I first met them.” Niki gave Dream a nice smile and turned her attention to Tubbo, who was now running full speed at her with his arms open, calling her name. She picked him up in a big hug, whirling him around. 

“So, you and George aren’t dating?” Dream glanced at Wilbur, ignoring Tubbo. 

George answered, “No, we’re not dating.”

“Oh. Cool.” _Oh._

Wilbur and Niki simultaneously turned to George, Wilbur winking and Niki raising her eyebrows and putting down Tubbo. 

“I mean, good, cause I thought he was being an asshole, but now I know,” Dream finished. George exhaled a little as Wilbur and Niki seemed to calm down. Still, George wondered why his heart fluttered at Dream’s response. 

Wilbur and Niki left the other two, going to the living room being followed by Tubbo and Tommy. Dream and George could still hear the couple laughing. 

—-

Karl arrived soon after, bringing a new friend with him. When Wilbur opened the door to Karl and another boy who wasn’t Sapnap, he was a little surprised, but he let them in. Karl introduced the boy who Dream and George already knew. It was the boy with a beanie and a silly grin from the clinic. 

“This is Quackity. Quackity, meet the gang.” Karl pointed out everyone, introducing them all until his eyes fell on Dream. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Dream. Quackity and I already know each other. Nice to meet you, Karl.” Dream held out his hand for Karl to shake. Karl met him with a solid handshake, smiling brightly at the other. 

Quackity said hi to both Dream and George, recognizing them from yesterday. 

The group moved to the living room, sitting in a semicircle around the tv. After much debate, Wilbur put on Hamilton, earning many groans from the others. But after Tommy and Tubbo joined in, they were all singing along by the end of the movie. Wilbur pointed out his hands at each note like a true theatre kid. When the movie finished, George put on Heathers, which Wilbur also sang along to. They could practically hear Techno’s complaints the next morning. 

The movie ended with Niki and Wilbur asleep on one another and Tommy passed out on Tubbo, who was slipping in and out of consciousness. Karl clung to George’s arm and Quackity was asleep with a bag of chips next to him. Dream and George were the only two still awake. 

Dream cleared his throat, drawing George’s attention to him. “Hey,” Dream said low, his voice hoarse even though he hadn’t been singing much. Dream tried to say more, but all that came out were choked coughs. 

“Do you need some water,” George asked, with obvious concern, already lacing his arm out of Karl’s and standing. 

Dream couldn’t respond through his growing fit of coughs. The panic slowly forming on his face made George feel helpless. He tried to stifle his coughs, not wanting to wake anyone up. 

“Dream, what’s going on? Are you alright?” Dream waved his hands as if to say yes, but his rapidly increasing number of coughs seemed to disagree. 

Standing and making his way down the hall, he found Phil’s room. George followed Dream, grabbing a small glass of water from the bathroom. 

Dream knocked on Phil’s door and Phil immediately came out, pulling Dream into his room and giving him an inhaler. “George, call his dad, David,” Phil said, grabbing the water from George and passing it to Dream, who drank it urgently. 

George took Phil’s phone shakily and searched for the number. Time was running thin and George knew if Dream’s coughs were anything like his mother’s, then he needed to act fast. 

He dialed the number Phil told him. The tone rang and on the second ring, an urgent man's voice spoke, “Phil? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Dream, he’s coughing a lot.” George looked over to Phil and Dream. His coughs seemed to slow a little, but the outside of Dream’s lips were dark red, blood red. George tried to hold back his anxiety. “Some blood too.”

George heard shuffling from the other side of the line. “I’ll be over immediately. Five minutes. Just calm him down,” the voice hurriedly said from the phone and hung up. 

George turned to Phil and Dream. Phil was rubbing a supportive hand along Dream’s back. “His dad said he’ll be here soon.” 

George thought back to what he’d do for his mother when she got like this. He thought of the numerous drinks of tea he’d wasted on her cough and the number of ambulances he had to call when his father was working late. He couldn’t think of anything to help Dream, he was truly helpless. 

As if Phil could sense his stress, he said, “George, it’s ok, just stay here with him for a second.” He left the room, leaving George to deal with a distressed Dream. 

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing George heard himself saying. He couldn’t help him, just like he couldn’t help his mother. Panic swirled his mind and plagued his every thought. He did the one thing he could think of. He held Dream’s hand, feeling the warmth still present, and rubbed his back with the other. Dream looked down at his free hand, coated in a thin layer of red. He was shaking a little with each cough, but they were getting better. 

Phil entered with a cloth to clean Dream’s hands and face. When George moved to let Phil help, he didn’t let go of the blonde's hand. 

When his dad knocked on the door they all moved quietly. It seemed that Dream’s primary concern was not racing to the door, but rather making sure no one woke up as they passed through the living room. He choked on coughs, shoving them down into his throat as he was led by George, still hand in hand, only letting go when being passed over to his dad. 

George watched them leave, finally taking it all in, and turned to Phil who wrapped him in a hug. George let his walls fall and crumble as he sobbed into Phil’s chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I just love writing angst. The next chapter will be happier I swear

**Author's Note:**

> expect updates every/every other sunday
> 
> as always your comments and kudos are appreciated and let me know I'm doing a good job! if you have an suggestions or critiques that’s also helpful. thank you for reading, and have a great day


End file.
